Tears, Trauma, and Tragedy
by LTdaQT
Summary: After CGL closes, Stanley and Zero are freed, but the other boys still have time to serve. But how much time do they have left ALIVE? (Title change from "Beyond the Lake") (RR please!))
1. Chapter 1

The weak light on the roof of their temporary replacement home flickered.   
  
"Did you see that flash?" Zigzag said, with a sharp suspiciousness in his tone, "Did you see it? They're photographing us again. They want to see how we react to Stanley and Zero taking off. If we react poorly, prison. If we're good, freedom. I'm telling you, it's a test."  
  
"Man, you're crazy," Armpit concluded, after hearing the most ridiculous explanation for why they were in this cold place, with an overall gray pigment to it. The walls were poorly-laid cinderblock, and the floors were glossy and cemented. There was no color, no decoration, and no heat. Even Camp Green Lake had more character and flair to it, "I told you a million times, they just puttin' us here until they find a better camp for us. A real camp, with lake maybe. A real one, with water and fish and stuff."  
  
"And no rattle snakes. Or Scorpiens," Magnet commented.  
  
"Or yellow-spotted lizards," X-Ray threw in.  
  
"And not a single hole!" A familiar voice chimed in, and everyone turned around to see who it was.  
  
"Stanley!" A chorus of deep voices said.   
  
"Yep! I came for a visit. I heard you're getting relocated, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," X-Ray replied, "They says we're gonna go to a camp. Not a hole-digging camp, but a real nature-loving camp. We'll have to serve some community service hours, and get counseling nightly, but it sure beats the heck out of digging holes."  
  
A series of approving grunts followed.  
  
"That'll be great," Stanley said, "Be sure to send me some mail, my box is getting kind of empty, you know?" It was a lie. The second he returned from camp, his mailbox was stuffed with letters and packages. For his birthday, they all sent him something. Armpit sent him an only slightly used bar of soap (I'm sure the other D-tenters were happy that Armpit gave up his only bar of soap), Magnet sent him a bottle of snake-venom nail polish (no doubt STOLEN form the warden), Zero sent him a touching card that he had written all by himself and a copy of "Gone with the Wind" (he had written "Read it. It's a good one" on the inside cover), Barfbag, whom he hadn't even met, had sent him an airline sickness bag (what did you expect?), Squid had somehow managed to pour some of their new cafeteria's food into an envelope (Stanley was quite disgusted; it appeared that this new cafeteria's food had about the same level of culinary expertise as ol' Green Lake), X-Ray sent him his old pair of glasses (imagine the social workers' faces when they saw the blinding glasses that appeared to have absorbed every grain of dirt that he shoveled), and ZigZag sent him 5 of what appeared to be human teeth (the motive for sending Stanley teeth is about as unexplainable as ZigZag himself). Stanley enjoyed hearing from every one of them. Even though his memories of Camp Green Lake were in no way good ones, and these strange delinquents of odd personalities were in no way the best friends that Stanley could aquire, he felt a certain bond that made each one of them his brother.   
  
"Well, what I hear is that you're going to Camp Bryce. It's a great place - Zero and I checked it out for you. They've got basketball courts, a big blue swimming pool, a rock climbing program, and so much more. You'll LOVE it, I guarantee that! You will LOVE it!"   
  
Stanley made a promise, and Stanley never broke promises.  
  
Right? 


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, the boys started packing their bags. All of their bags were light and small, except for Magnet's. For a while, everyone wondered why Magnet, all of the sudden, had acquired so many belongings. They didn't wonder for too long!  
  
They all threw their bags in a plain white truck, and climbed up the steps of a school bus that was very near to it. The bus was completely empty, except for the bus driver, who was skinny with a light beard and glasses. He wore a ballcap that shaded his face. The boys strode past the lanky man, and found seats. X-ray took one back seat, while Zigzag took the other. Armpit, Magnet, Squid and Twitch filed into the seats that were close in front of them. They chattered for a while, as the bus became slowly filled with other delinquents. Soon, it was a hurricane of chaos. Kids were laughing, punching each other, and a light paper airplane bumped into the driver's face.   
  
The driver's top lip furled up, and his forehead wrinkled. He squeezed his eyelids together as his face reddened.  
  
"BOYS!" He roared, making even X Ray jump, "I didn't 'dink it was a great idea, driving a bus of hoods like you to a punishment camp. I didn't want the job. But 'den 'dey said how much 'dey wudd pay me. I accepted. And if you MAKE me regret 'dat decision, well, it cudd get mighty ugly 'round here!"  
  
While the red intensity faded from the driver's face, It was quiet for a minute or so. Then Twitch quietly piped up, speaking as softly as he could.   
  
"Man, if I got paid to drive this monster, I wouldn't be hollering to matter who my passengers were!" He whispered softly, but not quietly enough. After his sentence ended, the bus veered off of the deserted road, making an ear-shattering screech.   
  
The bus stopped suddenly, and armpit banged his head against the brown seat in front of him.   
  
"Oh, I see! We got a smart-ass in here!" The driver growled, making his way towards the back of the bus. "Well, I don't take kindly to smart asses."  
  
And almost too quickly, the driver had drawn a switchblade from his pocket. He flipped out the razor sharp edge of the knife, and held it softly under Twitch's chin. he didn't cut the skin, but Twitch was shaking uncontrollably.  
  
"I also don't take kindly to people who murder my son. I know one of you here hoods had done it. I don't know who. They wouldn't let me in to see 'de trial, 'dey said I was insane. I didn't get to see the cold blooded killer of my son earn the sentence he deserved. He never did get the sentence that he deserved - being sliced up with a 10 inch switch blade just like Joey did. You got sent to some sissy camp. I am sure 'dat the blisters on your hands 'dat you got from digging holes isn't nearly as painful as 'duh feeling of being impaled in the heart and having to be left to die in a pool of yer own blood. So, we're going to drive around in this gasoline filled bus until I find out who that person is. You're not going to make any noise, or make any fuss that would call attention to us, or I set this whole bus on fire and all of us die."  
  
It was silent. No one was breathing. Twitch had fainted, his head only about 5 inches above the ground. The driver drew his leg back, and kicked Twitch's face as hard as he could. A ribbon of blood trailed from his nose, forming a puddle on the ground. Soon, he was coughing up the deep red liquid, then he passed out again, probably with a severe concussion and some internal bleeding.   
  
Magnet vomited because of the intense fear he was experiencing. The bus smelled awful, but that was the least of everyone's worries. Someone in here killed his son, and someone, if not everyone, in this bus, was going to die if nothing happened. Surely, 20 experienced criminals could take out one little bus driver, right? Maybe. This small bus driver had matches, though. All he had to do was light one little match, and they would be through.   
  
X-Ray couldn't take much more. As the leader of Tent D, it was his job to look out for the little guys. Yet there was Twitch, suffering on the floor, when he had done nothing, except admire the not-so-glamorous career of a bus driver. He couldn't let him sit there, he might die!   
  
He might die...  
  
(A/N - woah! I just had this wave of inspiriation, and I was like, I think I will make this a terror-type fic. If you don't like it, and want me to change it back to less violnce, I will change it, but I have to get a LOTT of reviews begging me to because, well, I am lazy, and lazy people don't like rewriting chapters. I think I do like this scary part though. We'll see. P.S. - thanks to all my reviewers. Remember, if you review for me, I review for you. AFMR forever (see my profile)) 


	3. Chapter 3

Armpit buried his face in his hands. He was really ready to turn his life around - for his mom, for his old friends, for himself. He couldn't believe it was all over - all of his chances were taken away from him. He pressed his forehead against the window, and silent tears rolled down his face. He had not cried in a long time; he thought all of the pain and guilt and anger and fear had numbed him from the cruelty of the world, but there he sat, trapped in a bus with the grave destination of death, crying to nobody but himself.   
  
  
  
Squid fisted his hands together, like he didn't exactly know how to put the in each other. He hadn't prayed since his sister's death; after then, he had lost hope completely. Now, though, he was desperate. He couldn't stop this insane man, only something of greater power could. He needed something else, he needed God.  
  
"Uhh - God?  
  
Okay, I know, I have done some real rotten things, and I haven't believed in you for a while. But if you are up there, please, we all need you right now. Save us."  
  
Suddenly, he felt more secure, like someone was holding his hand.  
  
(hooray for the shortest chapter EVER!) 


	4. Chapter 4

Stanley was in a taxi back to his home. He wished Zero could have tagged along for the visit, as everybody's faces illuminated with satisfied surprise when he entered the dull replacement home.   
  
He picked threads of the red and gray fabric he sat on. It was a pretty pattern, one day, you could tell. The crimson threads overlapped the gray ones in beautiful harmony. Someone was very proud of their pattern that they designed. Then, this car was sent into the streets, where it was treated poorly, and had seen a lot of action. It took a very sensitive eye to see the beauty in this fabric, to see through it food crumbs and stains and small tears. Stanley had a sensitive eye  
  
.   
  
Zero didn't want to go back. He liked his new life. He liked his house and his hole-less yard, and most of all he liked his Mom. He loved his Mom. Camp Green Lake was one of the worst times of his life. Inside him, there was a beautiful thing, waiting to blossom. It just needed fed and watered with respect and even, love. Stanley provided him with that, after every other boy at camp had snatched any happiness he had away from him.   
  
---  
  
Twitch slowly opened his eyes to a pool of blood below him. Well, one eye saw a pool of blood, the other couldn't see at all. His body ached, and his entire face bled.   
  
"What happened?" He silently wondered. He pushed his brain to think of what happened, but nothing at all would come to his mind. He was in a bus with a bunch of petrified looking-kids. Who were they? What happened?  
  
All of the kids around him had on a uniform. A blue shirt that said, "Edgarson's Temporary Home for Troubled Youth" covered their chests and arms, while gray cloth sweatpants clung to their legs. Most of them didn't fit quite right. Why were they all dressed alike?   
  
Then he looked down, and found himself in gray sweatpants, and a very blue shirt.   
  
"I must be dreaming. I must be -"  
  
Then he remembered something.   
  
The car was so hot. He had to have a ride. His knuckles whitened as the gripped the wheel tightly. He was twitching fiercely - this was the worst it had ever been. His shaking right hand picked up a ring of keys, and chaotically shuffled through them to find the right one. He plugged it in, and turned it.   
  
He heard his favorite sound in the world - a starting car.   
  
He heard his least favorite sound in the world - police sirens.  
  
He watched the red and blue lights come near to him. He could have driven away, but there was no way he could get away. Then -  
  
"Come on, think... think!" He wrinkled his face, pondering what had happened next.  
  
There was a man in a nice brown suit. Twitch had to dress up too; it wasn't something he liked to do, but his mom said he had to.  
  
His mom.  
  
She was a younger mother, only in her mid thirties, when most of his friends' parents were practically fifty. She has a short blonde haircut that the curled inward, so her ovular face was neatly framed. Her eyes were gray, and she was rather petite.   
  
Twitch loved his mom more than he loved anything. Even if she drove a dorky minivan, Twitch had more respect for her than any other thing he knew. The worst part about getting caught was the look of disbelief and disappointment on his mother's face when she found out. He wanted her to be proud of him no matter what.   
  
"She still might be," Twitch whispered, unaware that he was speaking. The almost silent whisper seemed much louder to anyone near him, as nobody had broken the silence since the last time Twitch spoke. Every pair of eyes in the back part of the bus shifted to Twitch.   
  
Every pair of eyes, except for the driver's.  
  
Perhaps he couldn't hear because his ears rang in his head with anger and hatred for whoever in the bus had killed his son. Whatever it was, a the bus was glazed in cold silence. Some were relieved to hear him talk, relieved that he was still alive, others were deathly frightened for their own lives, and for their friends.   
  
ZigZag was good with plans. It was similar to the way Zero was good with numbers, or Twitch was good with cars. It was his thing.   
  
When you suffer from acute paranoia your entire life, you get good at making plans. When you think that every irregular movement and every out-of-the ordinary situation could mean death, you plan. You plan a lot.  
  
ZigZag was planning. 


	5. Chapter 5

X-Ray wrapped a loose gray thread from his pants around his finger, and tightly held it there until his skin began to purple around his fingernails. He wished the thin piece of string would hurt worse.  
  
Most kids wish that all physical pain would leave there body. X-Ray wasn't "most kids". He was intimidating to everybody, himself included. He found that when he inflicted pain on himself, he would concentrate on that cut or bruise more than his problems. When he wanted to forget all of the agony that his life had brought him he cut himself, or scraped himself, or did whatever he could to hurt himself. Pain on the outside hurt worse than pain on the inside to him.   
  
  
  
He didn't have a knife, or even a needle. They usually don't give those sorts of things out at juvenile delinquent facilities. He was hanging by a thread.   
  
He was supposed to be a leader. He wound the thread around his finger. Twitch was passed out and dying on the ground, and all on his watch. His finger purpled. Everyone's going to die.   
  
The thread broke.   
  
---  
  
Stanley arrived back at his house. He wiped his feet on the "Home Sweet Home" doormat, and turned the tarnished silver knob. He kicked off his sweet-smelling shoes, and threw his coat in the closet. For a while, he spoke with his parents about how the boys were - not for too long though, since his parents weren't thrilled that Stanley's best friends were all criminals. On the other hand, Stanley never had many school friends, so the parents were also happy that he had some friends - any friends.   
  
  
  
Things were different for Stanley Yelnats. The Yelnats family used to be pretty poor, but now they would tend to Stanley's every desire with a few Benjamins. He had nice shoes, nice clothes, and a nifty cell phone that could record videos, respond to vocal commands, and had the coolest ring tones in town.   
  
He unfolded his cell, and held it about two inches in front of his mouth.   
  
"Hector Zeroni," He stated in a business-like way, and seven multi-tonal sounds followed. He had memorized the sound of those seven numbers - ol' Zero's digits.   
  
"Hello?" Zero said. His voice had changed since they had returned from Camp Green Lake. It hadn't changed like most boy's voices change at his age, it wasn't any deeper or gruffer than it was before. The difference was the nice ring of confidence and happiness that he had. He used to mumble, unsure of his words. Not anymore.   
  
"Hi! How've you been?" Stanley greeted, knowing that it wasn't necessary to identify himself. The boys knew each other's voices like an ornithologist knew the call of a warbler.   
  
"Alright. Yourself?"   
  
"Guess where I just was!" Stanley hadn't told him. He didn't because… well, he didn't know why, but it felt right. He knew that Zero wouldn't want to come along anyway.  
  
"Hm. Where?"  
  
"I went to visit the boys at their little in-between house."   
  
There was a moment of short silence. It wasn't long, but it was meaningful. Stanley knew how the "boys" had mistreated Zero, and also knew of the awkward moment that he had created.   
  
  
  
"Hm. How are they?" Zero asked. Stanley knew that he didn't really care, but felt obligated to speak.   
  
"Fine, I guess. Hey, by the way, uhm…" Stanley searched his mind, trying to change the sensitive subject that he had just created.   
  
"Did you get that new… CD? By uhm… The Four?" Zero recognized Stanley's desperate tone and longing to change the subject. Zero didn't mind. Not at all.  
  
"Uh… yeah! It was…. Great!" Zero tried.   
  
The phone in the kitchen rang, so Stanley had figured he should answer it.  
  
"Hey , uhm, phone's ringing. Like, not my cell phone but the other one, so, I have got to go. Uhm, bye."  
  
Stanley jogged over to the ringing phone and picked it up.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Hello. Is this Stanley Yelnats?" A gruff and determined voice barked at him.  
  
"Yes. Uhm, who is this?"  
  
"My name is Dr. Carl Blakely. I run the juvenile behavior rehabilitation program at Camp Bryce. A group from ….err…" Pages flipped in the background, as though he was shuffling through paperwork.   
  
"Camp Green Lake?" Stanley tried to help.   
  
"Yeah. That. Well, a group was supposed to be arriving here…. A few hours ago. We understand that you had visited some of the juveniles, and would like to see if you had information that you could supply us with. Anything you know would be appreciated." 


End file.
